


unraveling down the drain

by jleeg



Series: how do you operate (when you think you're supposed to be fine) [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s06e02 The Incident, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of anxiety, Lots of tears, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past drug abuse, Mentions of past self harm, Panic Attacks, i'm trying to think of other warnings, mentions of dry heaving?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jleeg/pseuds/jleeg
Summary: “Heyyyy David. Sooo, while part of me thinks this is like, totally funny, I do kinda feel a teensy bit bad about it. Especially because I just saw Button across the street and he looked, like, horrific. I knew he was mad when he wouldn’t let me leave the café until I deleted the video but, uh, yikes! Anyways, like I said, I do feel bad, especially because of that link at the end… Plus, Ted saw it and called me, and he felt bad and compared it to if there was a video of me wh—”“Oh my gosh, the machine cut me off, David. But yeah, I was calling because I feel bad since I maybe didn’t delete the video until Button made me, even though it’s definitely Mom’s fault. But I wanted to tell you not to stress because that website is as irrelevant as Jamie Lynn Spears, like seriously, nobody reads it. Plus I did some Alexis lawyer magic anyways and they’re deleting it within the next hour. So, no worries! Plus you have to admit it’s like kind of hilarious that—”Or: The incident quickly turns into a catastrophe, the past rears its head, and David and Patrick cope... sorta.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Sebastien Raine/David Rose (past)
Series: how do you operate (when you think you're supposed to be fine) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829581
Comments: 18
Kudos: 217





	1. take from me on the rising moon

**Author's Note:**

> I have NO idea where this monstrosity came from. I started a different fic then BAM I wrote 8000 words of this fic in three days. I think it has something to do with the fact that my online classes started this week. 
> 
> This was written very fast and unbeta'd so i apologize in advance for any mistakes
> 
> Title and chapter titles are from "Still Don't Know" by Noah Reid. Damn good song. I also changed the name of the series to lyrics from Runaway. Bonus points if you can find the lyrics from Runaway that are thrown in this fic. I am obsessed with his music.

David woke with a start, hand flying to the front of his pajama pants under the covers. _Dry, thank god._ He let out a relieved sigh and flopped back onto his pillow, turning his head to look over at his still sleeping fiancé, mouth guard and all. It was a rarity that he woke up before Patrick, but he figured undergoing the trauma of _wetting his fiancé’s bed_ was enough to disrupt his circadian rhythm. Plus, he may have been dreaming about the time he was dumped in front of a waterfall in Venezuela when he startled awake and… well. That was an issue for several reasons.

He could only savor Patrick’s peaceful, nose-plugged face for so long before succumbing to the impulse to empty his bladder in a toilet before his body takes it upon itself to utilize the _plastic sheet._ Not that he really had to go; he made sure he was empty before bed, but his brain was screaming at him to get up and force it.

He reached for his phone as he got up, but his eyebrows furrowed when he remembered Patrick taking it the night before. Shaking his head, he rounded the bed to grab it from Patrick’s nightstand, huffing at its low battery. He took in the barrage of notifications on his lock screen as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door, growing more confused by the second. He decided his bladder could wait as he opened his conversation with Ronnie, having a sinking feeling that the surplus of messages had something to do with the uncharacteristic text he received from her.

The link was from a D-list Perez Hilton wannabe blog—the likes of which he was all too familiar with—and he felt sick when he saw his name in between the slashes and dashes. He sat down on the floor against the door, taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut. He was used to this exact scenario in his old life, but not here, not anymore. He hoped it was an old article that Ronnie stumbled upon, maybe even a nice piece about the store, but the pit in his stomach knew there was no chance.The burning need to know forced him to open his eyes and click the link. The page took a second to load, but when it did, he felt the familiar sensation of his body being dunked into frigid waters and the air being sucked out of his lungs.

There in big black letters: _David Rose: From Bed Warmer to Bed Wetter?_

He felt like his ribs were shrinking and lungs couldn’t get enough air and his heart was pounding so hard and so fast that it’s about was going to burst. Between the tears filling his eyes and his shaking hands he could barely see the screen. He squeezed his eyes shut again before opening them and scrolling down the screen. He had to know if this was real. It had to be a joke. Or maybe he had yet to wake up.

The embedded video began playing automatically, his mother’s face filling the screen before it went to black. He listened to his mother and his fiancé talk about his _fucking body betraying him like a toddler_ as he read the short paragraph underneath.

_“You may remember David Rose from his barroom blowouts, beau blunders, or fortune failure, but now he’s back with a new faux pas: a “nighttime oopsy-daisy.” His defrocked mother, Moira Rose, spilled the beans while clawing to get back in the public via an Interflix livestream... while talking to David’s fiancé! Hopefully David gets his excitement under control before their wedding night, or that marriage might the only thing going down the toilet!_

David’s ears were ringing, and his stomach was churning by the time the video finished playing. His phone was flying out of his hand as he lunged toward the toilet to dry heave, alternating between gags and sobs. He barely registered the hand on his back moving in circles and a voice whispering behind him. Eventually the sobs and heaves morphed into choking breaths as he slumped back into the body behind him.

-

Patrick was pulled to consciousness by a sharp thud and guttural noises coming from the bathroom. He bolted out of bed and slowly opened the bathroom door, finding his fiancé hunched in front of the toilet. He knelt down behind him to rub soothing circles on his back, and his stomach dropped when he realized David was crying between heaves. He wasn’t just sick.

The events of the day before came crashing back to him and he paled, piecing together David’s distress and the fact that he was awake before him. His eyes darted to David’s phone that was laying on the ground, and he debated grabbing it to see what all David saw, but stopped short when a warm body fell into his.

Normally he’d ask before touching David during a panic attack, but given the fact that he was already bearing the weight of his shaking body, Patrick wrapped one arm around him, placing his hand flat on his heaving chest. “Shh, David, shh, I’ve got you. Deep breaths. Try to match my breaths.” He pressed David’s back into his own chest, taking his exaggerated breaths in hopes that David’s own would sync.

While he tried to calm David with his own body, he reached one arm out to grab David’s phone and look at the screen. When he unlocked it, he saw the blog post, and his blood ran cold. He felt like he might be sick, too, when he read the paragraph. He quickly set down the phone and wrapped his other arm around David as he blinked back tears. He let out a breathless and strangled “David, I’m sorry,” into the back of David’s head. David suggested divorce after he wet the bed and it was only Patrick there to witness it; Patrick couldn’t even imagine the spiral of shame happening in his fiancé’s brain. He wanted to strangle whoever wrote that article and delete the whole Crows movie from existence for leading to this. But more importantly, he wanted to wrap David in his love to protect him the rest of the world and from himself.

David’s breathing was still labored, and his hands were shaking, but his whole body seemed to still when Patrick spoke. It lasted a few moments before he was scrambling away until his back thumped against the base of the sink. He was now facing Patrick, eyes wet and wide, face blotchy, hair a mess. “Did… Patrick, did you know?” His voice was shaking and broke on the last word.

Patrick held his hands up placatingly and tried to speak in a steady manner, but even he could hear the desperation in his own voice. “David, I swear, I didn’t know about that website, I—”

“But you knew about the video, didn’t you? That’s why you took my phone?” If Patrick sounded desperate, the only way to describe David’s voice was hysterical.

“David, please hear me out, I was going to tell you eventually, but you were barely coping as it was and—”

“So now we’re back to this, Patrick? You taking advantage of by trust? You deciding what I need to know? Are you always going to lie to me when you think it’s the right thing to do?” His voice was high pitched and frantic, but he still managed to sound scathing even as he gasped for breath.

“David, no, of course not. I—”

“Patrick, I need you to leave. I need space.” _No, no, no, not again._

“David, please, let me stay; you’re clearly not okay and I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“ _Of course, I’m not okay!_ It’s been broadcasted to the _world_ that I _pissed_ my _fiancé’s bed!_ Not that they think you’ll stay with me much longer, but I don’t blame them! I’m _mortified,_ Patrick! I thought I was _done_ being _humiliated_ like this.” He dissolved into sobs and Patrick’s heart broke.

“Baby, _I love you._ I’m sorry this is happening but it’s going to be _okay._ ” He started moving towards his fiancé, but David thrust his shaking hands out in front of him and shook his head.

“No, _no._ You still kept this from me just like you kept Rachel and your parents from me. You don’t get to do that then tell me everything’s going to be okay when _I’m_ the one that was blindsided by this and _I’m_ the one that’s been _humiliated._ I just… I need space. _Please_.”

Patrick swore he could feel his heart crack into pieces. He felt completely and utterly powerless. He could see everything falling apart around him. He tried so hard to help David—to _protect_ David—through a situation made worse by his family’s carelessness and callousness, in the same way that they had failed David so many times in the past. But now _he_ failed David, too. He failed and he can’t even be there for David because he fucked up and David probably hates him now.

Patrick was spiraling now too, but he nodded slowly as he stood up and walked out of the bathroom, blinking back fresh tears. He quickly changed and grabbed his wallet and keys despite everything in him screaming to stay. He allowed himself to pause and walked back to the bathroom door; David was still curled in on himself, no longer crying but staring blankly ahead. Patrick cleared his throat, but instead of David looking at him, he looked down at his own knees.

“David, I’m going to go open the store since you want me to leave. Just—I’m sorry. I swear, I was going to tell you today, I just… wanted you to process things first. I—fuck, I love you. So much. And I am sorry… Please call me if you need me. Or _someone._ Or… if you just want me to come back, I will. Anyways, I’ll leave now, I’m sorry. I love you.” He cringed at how many times his voice cracked while waiting to see if David would react at all.

David didn’t, so Patrick reluctantly left the apartment, making sure the ringer on his phone was turned all the way up.

-

David didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the floor of the bathroom by the time he actually had to get up to pee. He then did a shortened version of his skincare routine before standing and staring in the mirror, feeling numb. His eyes were bloodshot and even his eucalyptus undereye cream couldn’t help the bags on his face.

He startled when his phone started vibrating on the floor, and he quickly picked it up to reject the call before he even looked at who it was. He then opened his messages and deleted every conversation with an alert, not bothering to read those first, either. He wanted this numbness to last. Maybe he was in shock.

He walked into the kitchen on autopilot when his stomach growled, breaking into his stash of comfort Poptarts and practically inhaling a pack out of necessity. He could hear his phone ringing again but ignored it in favor of chugging a glass of water and making his way back to bed and to crawl under the covers. He looked at his phone and saw that he had two voicemails from Alexis. He didn’t know what compelled him to press play, probably a penchant for self-punishment.

_“Heyyyy David. Sooo, while part of me thinks this is like, totally funny, I do kinda feel a teensy bit bad about it. Especially because I just saw Button across the street and he looked, like, horrific. I knew he was mad when he wouldn’t let me leave the café until I deleted the video but, uh, yikes! Anyways, like I said, I do feel bad, especially because of that link at the end… Plus, Ted saw it and called me, and he felt bad and compared it to if there was a video of me wh—”_

_“Oh my gosh, the machine cut me off, David. But yeah, I was calling because I feel bad since I maybe didn’t delete the video until Button made me, even though it’s definitely Mom’s fault. But I wanted to tell you not to stress because that website is as irrelevant as Jamie Lynn Spears, like seriously, nobody reads it. Plus I did some Alexis lawyer magic anyways and they’re deleting it within the next hour. So, no worries! Plus you have to admit it’s like kind of hilarious that—”_

David let out a big whoosh of air from his lungs when the second message cut off, feeling relieved about the post getting deleted for all of two seconds before the shock faded and his feelings started flooding back. First, he realized it didn’t matter that only a tiny fraction of the world would ever see the video because he knew everyone in Schitt’s Creek would be a part of that tiny fraction, and this is where he had to live. He had been humiliated plenty of times by and in front of people that didn’t respect him and that he didn’t respect in turn. Sure, those times hurt profusely since he desperately craved approval from those people, but this was worse. He thought he earned the respect of the people here, just like they earned his. Now, all of that progress was gone. Now there was no crevice of the world where he isn’t a joke. Tears spilled down his cheeks and his breathing was labored.

He began processing the rest of Alexis’s words and choked out a sob when she realized what she said about Patrick. _He made her delete the video and he was trying to protect me, and I yelled at him and made him leave and now he looks like a wreck, apparently._ David was still angry that Patrick hid the truth from him in a poorly thought-out ploy, but he realized just how sincere Patrick’s words sounded and understood his intentions, sort of. He thinks they need to talk about their communication but realizes that it _was_ different from those other times, at least somewhat, and all he wanted is for Patrick to be in bed holding him.

_But I sent him away and he’s alone and upset and probably realizing how fucked up this all is and that I’m not worth it, just like everyone else._

David was spiraling, and fast. He pulled out his phone as the sobs came faster and debated calling Patrick, but he decided he was already too much of a burden. _Maybe if I keep my mouth shut, he’ll stay._ Instead, David went back to the blog post, Alexis’s words dawning on him. _What link?_

He reread the words, this time noticing an extra line after the paragraph: _Which David disaster do you think is worse: His nighttime oopsy daisy or his classic gallery gaffe? Tell us below!_

David once again felt like he was doused in ice water. He already knew what they were referring to, but he couldn’t resist clicking on the link. The page switched to another post by the same blog, dated from a time that felt like lifetimes ago. Or, it did. Now everything was converging and blending together and _fuck._

David largely ignored the text, instead scrolling down to stare at the embedded images.

The first four were black and white, just some of the original images from _Sebastien’s fucking exhibit._ Images of himself that he didn’t consent to, that he didn’t even know were taken. He had forgotten how bad they were.

The first was of him too skinny and too naked, laying spread eagle on his stomach in Sebastien’s bed. The left side of his face could be seen, showing off a bruised eye and a smear of dried blood under his nose; one given to him by Sebastien, one given to him by their drug of choice. His eye was closed and slightly swollen, lips slightly spread, definitely strung out and far from lucid. There were a few lines of coke on his shoulder blade, curtesy of Sebastien and his _fucking artistic vision._ Thankfully, the bottom half of the image was censored; though he still had the full uncensored image from the gallery seared into his brain.

The second image was him again, still younger and too skinny, curled up in his underwear on a bathroom floor. It was probably taken right after he emptied his guts. You could tell he was too pale even with the black and white filter. If you looked closely, you could see lines cutting across the skin on his thighs. He may have been completely passed out, but it’s not like he’d remember either way.

The third showed him back in bed, taken from the waist up, lying on his back with his arms stretched above his head and tied to the bedframe. His chest was noticeably devoid of any hair and his ribs were much too prominent. His head was thrown back and his face was twisted in some combination of pleasure and pain, marred with the bruise and bags under his eyes. Whatever happening out of frame wouldn’t have been consensual, not with him that high out of his mind.

The fourth was a close up on his face, all sharp angles and bruised flesh. His eyes were half lidded, unfocused and devoid of any awareness, and Sebastien’s hand was grasping his hair, holding his head back. His mouth was open and his tongue sticking out, a tab of E resting on it.

David swallowed back bile and tried to catch his breath, but it was coming rapidly as his chest constricted and he let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat. His brain spun with the way his old world and his new one were crashing together and burning. He felt scared and worthless and exposed in a way he hadn’t since he lived in New York. _How many people here clicked on this link?_

With a shaking hand he scrolled down to the last three photos, all grainy cell phone shots from the night Sebastien’s exhibit opened. The first showed him yelling at Sebastien, arms out and wet-faced. Sebastien looked unperturbed, a lazy smirk on his face and arm around the waist of another pretty face. The second showed David gesturing toward the door as he yelled some more, attendees streaming out of the gallery at his command, some laughing and grinning or wearing shocked faces. The third was David emptying the contents of his stomach on the curb outside of the gallery.

David slammed his phone down on the bed. He was suffocating. He had to get out; he had to find a place where he could breathe and wouldn’t have to see the face of anyone who had seen those pictures. He rushed around the apartment, throwing on clothes without registering which pieces they were before tying up his shoes. He realized Patrick took the keys to his car, probably so David couldn’t leave.

His chest ached even more when he thought about Patrick. Patrick will probably see those pictures—if he hadn’t already. This must be it, the other shoe dropping. There’s no way any sane person would stick with him after this. Especially after he sent him away. Sobs ripped their way out of his chest as he pocketed his phone and nothing else. He left the apartment and started walking without knowing where he was going, spiraling as he went.

-

Patrick was barely functioning by the time he walked through the doors to the store. His chest was tight, and his eyes were burning as he walked into the backroom. It was too early to actually open and he doubted he could focus enough to do so, anyways. He felt too sick for breakfast and didn’t want to face anyone at the café, either.

He sat down on the couch with his head in his hand, trying to take deep breaths. Frantic energy clawed at his chest and he pulled his phone out of his pocket in hopes that David texted him, but he didn’t. Instead, there were texts from Stevie and Alexis.

_Stevie: https://torontobuzz.com/video/celeb-gossip/david-rose_

_Dude…_

_Alexis: don’t worry button theyre going 2 delete the post <3_

_can’t do anything about the article they linked but that’s old news anyways :p_

Patrick prayed that Alexis was serious for David’s sake, but his eyebrows furrowed at the mention of an article. He didn’t get a good look at the page earlier—and he really didn’t _want_ a good look—but he pressed the link Stevie sent to see what Alexis was talking about.   
  
When the website loaded, he scanned the screen and saw the line he missed the first time. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he pressed the link to the _gallery gaffe._ His heart pounded in his chest and he barely processed any words except David Rose and Sebastien Raine. Of course, Patrick knew about the guy and how horrible he was, but for the most part it was only from David and Alexis’s passing comments about their past that make molehills out of mountains, rather than the other way around.

No, he couldn’t focus on the words when he saw the pictures that were attached. David had once given him a very brief and very vague explanation of the gallery incident in a quickly passing moment of vulnerability, but nothing could’ve prepared him to see any of the images. He had assumed that they existed on internet, but he very purposely refrained from seeking them out. He wouldn’t betray David’s trust like that. Plus, he didn’t know if he could handle the emotions they’d evoke.

Now, there they were, right in front of him. Or at least some of them. Still, too many. His eyes frantically took them in, analyzing every detail even though his stomach was churning, and his feelings were split between absolutely, completely heartbroken and _so fucking angry._ He took in the drugs and the black eye and David’s ribs and the heartbreak and all the _brokenness_ and he was sure that he would kill Sebastien Raine if he were here right now.

It was then his turn to dart to the bathroom and dry heave for a few minutes. He couldn’t describe visceral emotion he felt if he tried; the thought of the mistreatment—the _abuse—_ David suffered over the years always made Patrick sick to think about, but seeing it captured so blatantly and apathetically in photos like this… it was a whole new level of raw feelings that he’d never experienced before.

After the heaves subsided, he was left struggling to breathe on the bathroom floor. He had been lost in the thoughts about the David in those pictures, but the realization slammed into him that the David of _today_ may have clicked on that link in his already fragile state. He scrambled to his feet and picked up his phone before he practically ran out of the store.

He didn’t think David had seen that article before he had left the apartment earlier; his phone had still been on the first page and he couldn’t imagine that David even noticed the link in his initial panic. But he was equally sure that he would have seen it _after_ Patrick left, given his penchant for rumination and the fact that Alexis managed to clue him in on it within two sentences over text. He picked up his pace.

He was out of breath by the time he ran up the stairs to his apartment since he was on the verge of running the whole way, all while continuing to panic. That panic only heightened when he saw that the apartment door was slightly ajar; he would’ve been annoyed if he wasn’t _so damn scared._

“David?” he called out as ran through the door, but he quickly realized David was gone after he checked the small apartment. He swallowed around the lump in his throat; he had to hold it together, he couldn’t get hysterical now. Patrick had the car keys so David couldn’t have gotten far. He refused to even consider any morbid possibilities.

He ran out without locking the door, though he did make sure it was closed all the way this time. He didn’t know if David had his key, anyways, and he didn’t want him locked out if he came back. Patrick pulled out his phone as he hauled ass down the stairs and frantically pressed David’s contact name. His stomach dropped when it went straight to voicemail and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.

He called Alexis next as he got in the car and she answered after a few rings. “Patrick? If this is about the whole blog post thing, they just deleted it, so—”

“Alexis, is David with you? Have you seen him? Or talked to him?” He spit the words out quickly as he started down the road, eyes scanning for any sign of David.

“What? No, he wouldn’t even answer my calls earlier. Patrick, where is he?”

“Alexis, do you think I’d be—” He cut himself off with a deep breath, now was not the time. “He was upset and angry with me when he found out this morning, so he made me leave. I just went back to my apartment and he was gone, and his phone went straight to voicemail. I—just call me immediately if you see him or hear from him, okay Alexis?”

“I—yeah, Patrick. I’m in the motel room right now, I’ll wait here in case he shows up. I’ll like, send my dad to go drive around and look.” Patrick left out a deep exhale through his nose.

“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna call Stevie now and—”

“Actually, Stevie’s right here. We were having a little girl time gossip. Here.” There was some rustling then Stevie’s voice came through the speaker.”

“I can’t _believe_ I wasn’t told that David wet the bed.” Patrick rolled his eyes and tamped down his annoyance at the fact that no one else was panicking.

“Gee, I wonder why. I assume you haven’t seen him.”“No, he hasn’t replied to my texts, either. Do you want me to man the store and call if he shows up there?”

“I—yes, actually, that’d be really helpful. Are you sure you can leave the motel?”

“Yeah, it’s a slow day, Roland can handle it. Plus, you’d owe me a bottle of wine, so I can’t turn down the opportunity.”

“Okay, thank you both. My apartment’s unlocked, you can grab a key for the store from there. Let me know if you hear from him, please. I have to go.” He hung up without waiting for a response. He dialed David’s phone one more time as he drove past the store and the Café, slowing down to look through the windows of each, but David was nowhere in sight. His phone went straight to voicemail again.

Patrick tried to keep his breaths even, forcing his panic down so he could keep a semi-clear head. He didn’t think David would be anywhere populated, anyways, but he had still hoped. Now all he could do was drive around aimlessly and hope.


	2. (but i know) the sun's gonna rise again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you SO much for the lovely comments, it truly means the whole world to me
> 
> i just finished this during my online class, pls forgive me for any mistakes

David’s frantic panic was quickly starting to give way to shear emotional and physical exhaustion. He had no concept of how long he had been walking—his phone was dead—but he was tired of it. He was on the side of a road…somewhere. There was nothing around but fields, not even a nice Amish family this time.

He stopped crying awhile ago, probably because he had no water left in his body. He felt calmer, if not a bit numb again, but mostly because he was now preoccupied with being stuck in the middle of nowhere. He didn’t know where he’d go even if he had the means to get there. He could _not_ go back to Schitt’s Creek. He didn’t have a thing to go back to, and the thought of it made him scared that he’d explode again. He looked skyward as he spiraled and laughed mirthlessly. _At least I was right to think it would all catch back up with me._

He knew he didn’t deserve happiness and he was much too damaged to ever find it. He never should have let himself believe anything different. It was his _own fucking body_ that started set the end in motion. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Sebastien was right the whole time. Now he couldn’t even pay for people to pretend to like him. There was no fortune to soothe this humiliation. Tears streamed down his face and periodic sobs forced their way out as he contemplated whether or not he’d get ticks if he went and laid down in a field.

He heard a car coming and debated whether he should hitchhike or just roll out into the street, but the air was sucked out of his lungs when he looked up and saw that it was Patrick’s car. He felt like he should probably get up, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate, so he sat and watched as the car slowed to a stop at the opposite side of the road.

Before he knew it, the driver’s side door was flung open and Patrick was bounding toward him. “David, thank _god!_ ” David blinked and suddenly Patrick was kneeling in front of him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, one hand finding the back of his head and the other clutching at his back. Patrick was trembling and repeating David’s name like a prayer.

David was stunned, but he couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around Patrick and burying his head in his shoulder; it felt like coming home.

His head was spinning as he tried to process what was happening, but it was overshadowed as he realized just how much he had been _aching_ to be held by Patrick. It all hit him again, and he dissolved into sobs for what felt like the hundredth time that day, clutching onto Patrick for dear life. He couldn’t stop words from spilling out of his mouth on their own accord.

“I’m so sorry, Patrick. Please don’t leave me. Please let me stay. I p—”

“Hey, shh shh shh, David.” Patrick pulled back, making David’s eyes widen and his breaths come quicker. “Hey, no, it’s okay.” He took David’s face in his hands with reverence and David was shocked by how wrecked Patrick looked. His eyes were red and puffy like he’d been crying before this, too, but they were still filled with softness (and maybe a hint of desperation). One hand left his face to take one of David’s and press it to Patrick’s chest. “Let’s focus on breathing for a sec, okay? In and out with me now.”

David’s chest started to loosen after a minute and his breathing became steadier, but his voice still cracked when he squeaked out, “Why are you here?” as he pulled his hand from Patrick’s, both of whose dropped back down in turn.

Patrick let out a short and breathless laugh, eyebrows raised and disbelieving smile flashing across his face, “Well, my fiancé was missing when I went to my apartment _and_ he wasn’t answering his phone _and_ nobody had heard from him, so I went a little out of my mind searching for him.”

David tipped his head back to look heavenward as he wrung his hands together. He felt naked without his rings on. “Is that what we still are? …Fiancés?”

Patrick took a sharp breath then let it out in a sigh. “Look, David, I am really, really sorry that I didn’t tell you. I probably should have, but I was trying to manage an out-of-control situation and _protect_ you—really it was quite similar to what you did when your Dad accidentally outed me, well, at least in intention, but… what?” David moved his head to look at him and was wearing an expression of utter confusion, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly downturned.

“What are you talking about?”

“You asked if we’re still fiancés so I’m trying to stop you from dumping me!” David’s face morphed from confusion to disbelief, the pitch of his conveying his indignation when he spoke.

“What? I asked because I thought _you_ were going to end things because you and the whole town know that your betrothed pissed your bed and was once a drugged-up whore!” Patrick’s face somehow hardened and softened at the same time, his eyes brimming with sadness. He raised his hands slowly towards David’s face again, taking it in between them when David didn’t object or flinch away.

“David, _listen_ to me. I am not leaving you. As long as you want me, I am yours. So much so that it physically hurts me when you talk about yourself like that. I’m sorry that this all happened and I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from it. You have every right to be upset. But I _promise_ you that I don’t love you any less than I did two days ago, and I _promise_ that I don’t respect you any less than I did two days ago, either. I _promise_ you that we’ll move past all of this and you will be okay. I’ll make sure things are okay, and so will everyone else, because you are _so_ loved, David Rose.” It was David’s turn to lunge forward, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s neck and letting out a strangled noise. His breathing was haggard, and some tears slipped out, but he managed to hold back anymore wailing.

“I love you. So much,” he rasped into Patrick’s neck. Nobody spoke for a few minutes as they took deep breaths and held on tight to each other.

“Hey, David?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe, ah, we should relocate from the side of the road.”

-

Patrick held David’s hand the whole ride back to the apartment, only letting go to run into the café and grab takeout, texting Alexis and Stevie that David was safe (though maybe not quite sound) while he waited for their food. They were mostly silent in the car—besides David asking about the store—and while they inhaled their food back at the apartment. Patrick could see David’s anxiety in every movement, from the way his eyes darted around to his constant fidgeting.

When Patrick came back to the table and stood across from David when he was done, but David didn’t lift his eyes from where he was fingering at the wood grain. His mouth did open a few times as if he was about to speak, so Patrick waited patiently. “I, uhm, I guess—I know today, uh, was… not good and uh—” His voice was strangled, no doubt holding back tears, and Patrick ached for him. He didn’t want to have this conversation while David was still wound up so tight that he was on the verge of snapping again.

“David, just—I know we need to talk about things, but it’s been a long day already,” he rounded the table to stand next to David where he’s sitting and thread a hand through his hair, “Why don’t you let me take care of you first?” David melted into his touch, turning and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Patrick’s stomach.

He murmured, “Okay,” into the material of Patrick’s shirt, and they stayed like that for a minute or two as Patrick stroked his hair and rubbed circles around his back. Eventually, David took a loud breath and pulled back. He brought his shaking hands to the front of Patrick’s pants and fumbled to undo the button and zipper.

Patrick’s eyes widened as he quickly moved to gently grab David’s wrists and pull his hands away. “Woah, woah, woah, David, what’re you doing?” he said with a slight chuckle out of disbelief rather than mirth. David looked up at him, eyes big and wet with a lip caught between his teeth. Patrick could practically hear the thoughts roaring through his head.

“Um… I just… I thought,” he glanced at Patrick’s crotch, “I thought you wanted me to…” He trailed off when he saw both hurt and sadness and a dash of anger flash through Patrick’s loud eyes.

“Hey, no, c’mere,” he guided David to stand in front of him, no longer comfortable towering over him. He mentally kicked himself for standing over him to begin with. He took David’s face between his hands and waited for him to meet his eyes. “David, listen to me,” he tried his best to sound gentle but firm, “I know today probably has your brain and your emotions all over the place, huh?” he asked, eyes searching. David’s hands came up to grab Patrick’s wrists, not pulling them away but holding on tight. His bottom lip wobbled, and he nodded slowly.

“I know you’re overwhelmed, but I need you to know that _we_ are still _us._ This is _not_ one of your past relationships, okay?” His thumbs moved to swipe at the tears that started spilling down David’s cheeks. “We’ve had our fair share of bumps in the road, but we’ve _never_ solved it like that. I’d _never_ expect you to do that, David. I don’t _want_ you to do that, not when you’re not okay. _Never_ when you’re not okay. That isn’t love. And _you_ , David Rose, are the love of my life.” He leaned in to kiss the tear tracks on both of David’s cheeks while David made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

He reared back to look David in the eye and slid his hands to rest on his shoulders, waiting a moment to see if David would do or say anything, but he seemed frozen, silent tears continuing to stream down his face. Patrick knew this was a fragile dance. When David was this overwhelmed and drained, he had trouble making his brain function. It essentially rendered him paralyzed, especially at the thought of navigating these waters when someone else was there. Patrick wad always more than happy to step in and take care of him, but it’s a thin line to walk. It was unlikely that David would object if he was told to do something he didn’t actually want to do or voice discomfort, but he wanted the control to stay in David’s hands even when David wouldn’t take it for himself.

“How about you take a nice warm shower, eh? I bet you’d feel a little bit better.” David sniffled and nodded. Patrick kissed his forehead then turned to walk to the kitchen counter. “I’ll have a nice cup of tea waiting for you when you’re done.” He got two mugs out and moved to grab the kettle but stopped short when he didn’t hear any movement behind him. Patrick turned around to find David standing in the same spot, biting his lip and wringing his hands. “What is it, baby?” he asked softly as he took a step towards him.

David looked down at his hands then back up, eyes darting around Patrick’s face. “Uhm, just, could you come with me?” Patrick wondered what his own face looked like right then, with the flood of emotions that hurtled through him. Part of him was relieved; he hadn’t wanted to ask David, especially after the miscommunication they just had and David’s anger at him earlier in the day. He was proud of David for asking; he knew how hard it was for him to ask for things when he was like this. It still broke his heart a bit more to hear him so timid when asking for something they’ve done a thousand times before; usually David would latch onto him and make a very compelling case of why he should join him. Patrick couldn’t help but feel anger at all the people that helped create this part of David.

He did his best to school his features into something acceptable. “Of course, honey. Why don’t you go get it started? I’ll be in right behind you.” David nodded and quickly made his to the bathroom, partially closing the door behind him. Patrick took a deep breath to ground himself and moved to grab them each a pair of briefs for when they were done. He heard the water start and expected David to be in the shower already, but when he walked in, David was standing facing the door, still fully clothed. Patrick raised his eyebrows at him as he set their underwear on the counter.

“Undress me?” David whispered in response, and Patrick didn’t think he meant it in a ‘let me make this up to you via sex way,’ so he nodded. He was more than happy to show David how much he still loved him— _without_ sex (for the time being)—and he was relieved David wanted the affection and was asking for it. He would do his damnedest to erase the way their day started in that same room.

Patrick took a step forward, so he was only a few inches away from David. He started by grabbing the bottom of David’s sweater, gently pulling it over his head and off his arms. He folded it on the counter before turning his attention back to David, lightly trailing his hands down his arms as he laid a soft kiss to each shoulder. His hands moved to rub up and down each side of his waist as he planted his lips right over David’s heart. He took a moment to rest forehead there and collect himself; feeling David’s chest hair and soft sides made him realize how fucking badly he had been longing for this ever since he saw those god forsaken pictures.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and moved to take David’s pants and underwear off in one go, pulling his socks off in the process. He stood back up and gave David a chaste kiss on lips; he was rewarded with a small smile. “Why don’t you get in while the water’s still hot?” David nodded and stepped into the shower while Patrick quickly stripped down and followed.

They faced each other under the spray and Patrick reached for David’s shampoo, squeezing some out onto his palm before reaching up to work it into David’s hair. He watched as David’s eyes closed and a contented noise worked its way out of his chest; Patrick loved him so much he wasn’t sure if he could bear it.

He moved through the motions of rinsing and conditioning with tender care, periodically brushing his lips against David’s face and shoulders and chest. He grabbed David’s special-order organic loofa and lathered it with his body wash before starting the careful work of cleaning every inch of David’s body. He trailed his lips all over, too—keeping careful watch of David’s face for any indication that he should stop—kissing his chest and his arms and his stomach and his legs and his half-hard cock.

Patrick stood back up, knees cracking, and hung the loofah back on its hook. He wrapped his arms around him, rubbing at the tense muscles in his back and burying his face into David’s chest and taking comfort in the feeling of the thick hair against his skin. He could feel that much of the tension in David’s body had faded, but it wasn’t gone completely.

They both jumped when the water started to go cold and let out short, breathless laughs as they stumble out of the shower. They weren’t carefree noises, but Patrick was relieved that they were at least getting somewhere. They shared a long look; David looked slightly better after showering, but his were still puffy and bloodshot. At least Patrick could see some hope breaking through the fear.

Patrick grabbed a towel and took turns drying them both off, wishing David would make a quip about how using the same towel was incorrect, but he stayed silent. The silence continued as they both slipped into their underwear; it continued as David wrapped his hair in a towel and began his skincare routine as Patrick stood and drank in the sight of him. It was a speck of normalcy in this upheaval and Patrick felt full to the bursting with a mixture of love and grief—but mostly love. He didn’t think he’d ever cease feeling overwhelmed at times by the emotion that David—singularly David—made him feel. Today it felt like he would be consumed by it more than ever. He couldn’t help but see those pictures in his mind’s eye as he looked at him.

He looked at the face he fell in love with, the face that couldn’t help but express every emotion, the face that Patrick would touch with gentle lips and fingers every day, and he saw a face that was still all sharp angles and shadows and bruised flesh. He looked at the chest hair he loved to run his fingers through, the soft flesh that he would hold at night, the thighs that would flex as David rode him, and saw too-prominent ribs and waxed skin and scars. It was hard for him to reconcile the David from then with the David he fell in love with, but he realized he was starting to; he could see them both in the David standing in front of him.

His eyes burned as he thought about how he loved every version of David. He wished he could step into those pictures and take that lost boy away from everything that was hurting him. He wanted to wrap the man in front of him in his arms and never let go. Instead, he settled on wrapping his arms around him from behind and kissing his way from one shoulder to the other. He may have been laying it on a bit thick, but he couldn’t bear the thought of David doubting his love for him. “I’m gonna go make us some tea while you finish here.” David gave him a tentative smile in the mirror and nodded.

Patrick forced himself away from the bathroom; he needed to collect himself before the conversation that was inevitably going to occur. He pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt on his way to the kitchen, consciously taking deep breaths. He tried to ground himself in the motions of making tea; today was emotional upheaval for himself, too, but he wanted to be solid for David.

He heard David leave the bathroom and the rustling of clothes as he was adding honey to the mugs of tea. He turned around with holding each in his hands, heart melting when he was met with the sight of David sitting at the end of the bed, wearing pajama pants and the shirt Patrick wore to bed the night before (something David would normally deem incorrect, seeing as it wasn’t even 3pm yet). His hair was out of the towel, damp and curling, and he was back to fidgeting as he stared at his hands. Patrick took a deep breath and set both mugs on the nightstand.

-

David stared at himself in the mirror for the second time that day, trying to focus on his skincare routine and the ghost of Patrick’s touch rather than the emotional whiplash he felt in his head. He was still reeling from the humiliation and felt the urge to go crawl under a rock and die, but he hit such a high peak of hysteria earlier in the day that he had no choice but to come down. His brain still screamed _fight or flight_ , but he was so tired of fighting and had nowhere to flee. Besides, even though his skin still thrummed with anxiety and his brain wouldn’t shut up, he wanted more than anything to be with Patrick.

_Patrick._ He couldn’t process the enigma that was Patrick Brewer. David was so sure that today marked the end for them, but then Patrick was holding him on the side of the road and declaring his love and taking care of him with all that tender care that is so _Patrick._ David couldn’t help but lean into it through everything in his brain telling him to do otherwise. He was so desperate for that care that he even asked for it, despite the electrified fear that lit up within him in doing so. He was cognizant enough to feel a bit of guilt over his shock and confusion at Patrick’s commitment—especially after seeing his face when David reverted to… old relationship habits. He knew he was backsliding, but everything was so mixed up in his head that he could hardly differentiate the past and the present. His head was spinning from the anxiety that Patrick deserved better and the fear that he was still going to leave.

David took a deep breath, eyes closed and hands gripping the sink, attempting to steel himself for whatever was about to come. He took the towel off his head and forced himself to leave the bathroom, eyes searching for Patrick, finding him clothed and pouring tea. David quickly dressed in his softest pajama, and he was about to retrieve his trademarked comfort sweater when he noticed Patrick’s discarded Henley laying on the bed. After a bit of hesitation, he pulled it over his head. Even if things went wrong, at least he’d be surrounded by Patrick in some sense. He sat down on the end of the bed, feeling unsure of himself in this space for the first time in so long.

Patrick walked over and set the two mugs on his nightstand before climbing into bed, settling against his pillows and the headboard. David turned to look at him and Patrick gave him a small smile before patting David’s side of the bed with raised eyebrows. David crawled up the bed with only slight hesitation, curling into himself as much as he could while still sitting up.

Patrick handed him a mug, from which he took one sip before setting it down on his own nightstand, not trusting his hands to remain steady. He felt Patrick’s hand settle on the back of his neck, fingers gently working at the tense muscles. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uhm, like I just went on a bender in Miami that ended with me having to sail to Cuba while still crossfaded to retrieve Alexis?”

Patrick gave a tepid smile, “David…”

David exhaled hard through his nose and turned his eyes toward the ceiling. “Fine… I… I’m still _mortified…_ and everything in my head just feels like it went through a fucking blender because everything is running together and it’s overwhelming and I can’t process it all and it _hurts_ ,” he jabbed at his chest in a frantic gesture. His voice dropped to a whisper as he added on, “And I’m so _afraid._ ”

“Hey,” Patrick whispered, moving his hand to David’s face and gently guiding him to meet his gaze. David pretended not to see the pain in Patrick’s eyes. “What are you afraid of?” David worried his lip between his teeth.

“Of… of what happens next. I don’t—it doesn’t feel like I can ever show my face here again but,” he took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and his next words came out impossibly soft, “this is home. Everything I have is here and I don’t know what to do… I thought… I thought I finally built a life where I wasn’t a joke to everyone around me, but now…” His voice had been wavering and broke by the end, tears spilling over. He could see that Patrick’s own eyes were shining; he wanted to close his against the sight, but he couldn’t look away.

“ _David,_ ” Patrick spoke softly but with a definite fierceness as he brought his other hand up to frame David’s face, “ _Nobody_ here thinks you’re a joke, not before, not now. I’m not going to tell you this whole thing isn’t embarrassing, I know it is, and I wish I could go back and stop your mom from ever walking in the store. But embarrassing things happen. I’m sure you know embarrassing things about everyone in town by now. I mean, Roland leaves the house _everyday_ with that haircut,” that actually got a snort out of David, “But that doesn’t make you a joke. Nobody thinks that. I know I don’t. And I’m sure somebody else will do something in the next twenty-four hours that will make everyone forget it ever happened and all our lives will go on and you and me will be _so happy here,_ David.”

Patrick dropped his hands when David began shaking his head with a pinched face, eyes squeezed shut. “I just—there’s no way anybody could possibly respect me after those—those _fucking pictures._ I don’t even know why you’re still here!” His eyes flew open with the exclamation, and he was shocked by how _wrecked_ Patrick looked.

“ _Baby_ —” he started to reach toward David but seem to think the better of it, fisting his hands in the sheets instead, “You—you were vulnerable, and he _abused_ you, David. Nobody would ever think any less of you because of that.” David began crying harder. “Can I hold you, honey, would that be okay?” David nodded rapidly, making a choking noise and scrambling into Patrick’s lap. He buried his face into Patrick’s neck, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm down as Patrick held him tight, hand rubbing up and down his back.

Patrick spoke softly, “You know what I thought when I saw those pictures? First, I was so, so angry that somebody treated you like that. I wished I could step into those pictures and take you away from all that. You deserved so much better. Better than me, even. I was even more amazed with you than I already was. I didn’t know how I got so lucky to be engaged to a man that is so good and so strong and could still trust me and help me and love me and forgive me for things I’ve done wrong even after everything he’s been through.

“In fact, I ran straight to you after I saw them. Or, tried. All I wanted was to hold you and never let go. Leaving you never even crossed my mind. I know things are all mixed up right now and your brain’s telling you that I should be leaving, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here. I love you. So much.”

David made a keening noise in the back of his throat and pushed his face harder into Patrick’s neck, gripping his shirt. Everything stilled as Patrick held his trembling fiancé in his arms, waiting patiently to see where they’d go from there. Eventually, David, audibly sucked in a breath and spoke in a shaking voice, “I—I love you, Patrick. More than anything. I just—fuck, there’s just, uhm, too much. In my head, right now? Can we just lay here? For a while?”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. Of course, we can.” They both slid down the bed until they were lying flat, Patrick on his back, David wrapped in his arms where his head was pillowed on his chest, one leg slung over Patrick’s. David listened to Patrick’s heartbeat as he tried to match the rise and fall of his chest. The thoughts in his brain felt like TV static, too many and too frantic.

He was still overwhelmed by emotions and memories and everything else bouncing around in his head, but he felt his breath evening out and his stomach settling. His anxieties and the unearthed trauma weren’t gone by any means, but Patrick’s words cut through the mess, a thread of unconditional love running through his whole body, soothing his soul. His doubts and fears felt smaller as Patrick’s body surrounded him, and he was able wrestle free of them, allowing himself to fall into those assurances and believe the words that Patrick had spoken with the conviction and love of devout worshipper reciting prayer. He remembered the truths that he had learned to embrace up until that day and clawed his way back toward them.

_I love Patrick and Patrick loves me._

_I am worthy of love and respect. I deserve happiness._

_I am not a joke. I am strong. I survived. I chose to be better. I am better._

It wasn’t even dinner time yet, but he was exhausted; he fell asleep right there on top of Patrick, repeating one phrase in his head like a mantra.

_I won. I won. I won._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh i hope it lives up to any expectations. i had trouble with the end. i'm leaving it marked as finished, but keep an eye out because there ~might~ be an epilogue or a follow up work
> 
> a lot of it was inspired by the AMAZING "i won" scene with david stevie, i had to watch it so many times while i was writing this
> 
> hopefully i'll have more up soon, but my professors are already on their bullshit. also, i haven't gotten around to replying to comments on the last chapter yet, but i will today!!!! i appreciate them so much, they're why i tried to crank this chapter out
> 
> much love <3 xx

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!!! I'm hoping to have part two up this weekend. 
> 
> This part didn't mention OCD but part two might. Either way, this can be read as taking part in the same universe as my last fic, if you'd like. Though I think the last fic said Alexis spilled the beans about the video. Just ignore that.
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading!!!!! And thank you for all the kind words on the last fic <3


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